First Impressions
by booksandtutus
Summary: Éponine is a waitress at Café Myriel and Enjolras is a student at West End, well known for its proud, wealthy students. Modern AU :)
1. Chapter 1

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Éponine wouldn't really describe herself as a waitress. It wasn't her only job; she walked dogs, babysat, tutored, volunteered at the senior home…really, being a waitress was her least frequent occupation, but it definitely paid the best.

The only thing about Café Myriel was it belonged to West End. The café was five blocks from the tall iron-gated West End campus. It wasn't the nicest café, either. There were others with bigger televisions, louder music, alcohol, and more West End boys. Just to know Café Myriel was a special privilege. If you could be seduced by Café Brujon on Fourth, you didn't deserve Café Myriel.

So the West End boys who actually managed to find it were the most West End the school had to offer. Loud, obnoxious, and entitled.

Éponine had seen enough of them to last a lifetime.

Groaning as the radio station began to play the same song for the thirteenth time (she'd counted), she pat at her apron, put on a tip-winning smile, and did her best to tune out the terrible music.

Not long after her shift had begun, the bell dinged as Four West End boys walked in, the sharp cold wind biting at their heels.

The luminescent glow of the neon light welcome sign lit their faces with unnatural colours. The first boy raised four long fingers while talking on his mobile phone. West End boys were good at that; multitasking was an easy skill as long as their tasks were self-beneficial. The way he held himself demanded respect and attention, like he was what presidents of multimillionaire companies had looked like when they were in high school. There was something hungry about all the boys. Éponine watched Toussaint eye them a bit more than necessary whilst leading them to one of the tables.

"Need help with that one, Tou?" Éponine offered as Toussaint hustled over to get glasses of water for the boys.

"Are you kidding?" Tou replied, "Isn't one with dark-hair hot?"

"Cute…not hot." Éponine answered thoughtfully, watching idly as Tou filled the glasses at lightning speed. How did she manage it?

"Mmm," Tou waved away Éponine's curt remark and put the water jug aside, "But hey, the blonde one's kind of cute too..." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Mr. High and Mighty Mobile Phone? Éponine bit back a laugh and sarcastic remark.

"Tou, we've been over this. No means no. You know that." She answered.

"Alright, alright, but you're missing out, 'Ponine!" she teased, making her way back to the table with the refreshments.

Éponine sighed and continued to make the orders for coffee. She hadn't slept well the night before.

_"Dad, we _really need_ the living expenses. It's been a week, and the rent's due soon." She spoke into the phone._

_"Didn't I give you the rent last month already? Just get the rent from that." A rough voice answered her._

_"Dad, you paid _a third_ of what we needed for food and rent _alone_ last month." And every other month before that. Ever since the damn divorce._

_"Well, too bad! Life's tough, so make due! Why isn't your useless mother getting off her fat ass and working, hmm? For the last time, I am poor, so I can only scrape up so much!"_

_"But we really need—"_

_Click._

_Éponine cursed and threw the phone onto her bed in frustration. That bastard! Three years had gone by and he _still_ didn't have a job. Hell, he hadn't even gone _looking_ for a job, that good for nothing, lazy…_

_She let out another sigh of exasperation. Now she had to work double shifts again, and final exams were coming up._

Something touched her shoulder. She whirled around.

"Can. I. Help. You?"

Before her stood the multitasking mobile phone West End boy, looking tidy and presidential. His watch looked as if it cost more than her apartment. The exposed skin around it was surprisingly tan; Éponine never knew why West End boys always tanned long before locals did. Probably because of spring break trips to Costa Rica, Los Angeles and the like.

"I certainly hope so." His voice rang of less hope, and more certainty. He had to speak loudly over the radio, and he was so tall he had to incline his head to meet her eyes. The tiny gesture made her feel miniscule.

"My socially inhibited friend Combeferre thinks you're cute, but he's unwilling to make a move. Over there. Not the red head. The one with—dammit, he's hiding behind the menu. God. He's not like this at all, usually. I'll be right back." Standing up, he turned around—right into Toussaint and holding the water jug.

The ice water and ice cubes therein arced in the air and splattered Éponine's shirt and apron, the merciless cold cutting clean through her body.

It was very quiet.

"P-Ponine?" Tou squeaked. "Are-are you okay?"

Éponine took a deep breath.

And another.

"Do I look like I'm okay?" she hissed, channeling all her willpower to keep the poison in her voice to a minimum.

Her cold reply enacted a stream of stuttered apologies from the poor girl. Toussaint and President Mobile Phone helped her up. For once, he looked completely aghast and unsure of what to do, which probably didn't happen very often.

"Do you…need any assistance?"

"No, thanks, I'll manage." She replied icily.

"Will you still do me a favour and come over and talk to him?"

Éponine blinked at him.

"What?"

"Well, if you don't mind—"

"I mind very much! If you haven't noticed, I'm soaking wet here! What exactly do you think I could talk to him about?"

"We'll think of something. We're interesting people." He didn't seem fazed by this at all.

"Do you see how I'm wearing this apron? It means I'm working. For a living."

"I'll take care of it." His expression didn't waver.

"Take care of it?" she echoed.

"Yeah. How much do you make in an hour? I'll take care of it. And I'll take to your manager." He shrugged.

For a moment, Éponine stood there at a loss for words, just staring at him. She opened her mouth, but all that came out was air. Then a humorless laugh.

"I am not a _prostitute_."

The West End boy seemed puzzled by this, and then realization dawned.

"I didn't mean it like that, that's not what I said."

"That is _exactly_ what you said! You think you can _pay_ me for talking to your friend?" She couldn't believe him! He was just so…so… "You know, in the real world, when a girl is interested in a boy, she'll talk to him _for free_."

The West End boy didn't talk for a moment. Then he said, without heat, "You said you were working for a living. I thought it'd be rude not to take that into account. I'm sorry I offended you."

In the background, she caught a glimpse of one of the other boys, a dark haired one, making a plane of his hand. It made a beeline for the table and crashed with dramatic sound effects provided by its owner. The one named Combeferre winced.

"Dear God," remarked President Mobile Phone, "I don't know what else to say."

"Try 'sorry'", she recommended

"I said that already."

Éponine considered. "Then, 'bye'."

He made a small bow with his head, which made her feel strange in its formality, and headed back to his table. He was received by the dark-haired one mimicking her "…'not a prostitute'" and Combeferre sighing "Enj, you are the worst wingman this sad world has ever seen…and she was really cute!" he whined.

She turned to Toussaint.

"You couldn't back me up?"

The girl blinked at her. "In my experience, it's usually wiser to just let you explode and blow off your rage without any intervention. Didn't want to add fuel to the raging fire." She shrugged. "On that note, you were a bit too harsh on the poor boy, he only wanted to help."

"He was an asshole."

"Well he was probably brought up by assholes, so he's not _that_ bad. And that guy thought you were cute! You need to give yourself a chance Ep, instead of blowing off every male human who shows slight interest in you."

Éponine made a sound and looked away.

"Alright honey, let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

"'Kay."

Éponine and Enjolras both heaved a sigh at the same time.

**A/N: My goal this time was less fluff, more action! Is it a bit too fast? Please please pleeease tell me what you think! This is my first time ever doing an action-focused piece!**


	2. Chapter 2

Marius and Grantaire strolled towards the apartment at number 6. The majestic brick building had a hungry look to it, cold and austere; much like that of its resident. The large staircase that led up to the second floor had a high ceiling, underlining its high price to all visitors, if the exterior of the building had not done so already. The pair didn't bother to knock. Brandishing their own set of keys, they let themselves in.

Light streamed from the tall windows and enveloped the entire apartment. The walls were covered in maps, notations, and bulletin boards stuffed with loose papers. And everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, there were books. Not the tidy stacks of an individual trying to impress, but the slumped piles of a passionate scholar; stuffed with and surrounded by papers covered in scribbles. Some of the books weren't even in English. Some of the books were dictionaries for the languages that some of the other books were in.

Enjolras himself sat at an old writing desk with his back to them, gazing out of the window and tapping his pen on the papers strewn before him. Marius was struck, as he occasionally was, by Enjolras's agelessness: an old man in a young body, or a young man in an old man's life.

"This place is a mess. And that's coming from _me_. Ever heard of a Kindle, Enjolras? An iPad?" said Grantaire, looking at his chaotic surroundings, "_Technology_, Enjolras. I swear to God it was invented for people like you."

"Yes in fact, I have, surprisingly enough. And I must say I very much prefer the corporeal pages of a book to a digital screen." Enjolras replied, snapping out of his reverie and turning his chair to face his friends.

As always, there was a war hero look to him, coded in his tousled blonde hair and his electric blue eyes. Everything about him suggested valour, power, and a firm handshake.

Marius tapped his messenger bag. "Calculus homework. Still want to work on it?"

"Want? No. Need? Yes." Enjolras pulled out a blue notebook from the incomprehensible mess on his desk. He had some strange system of organization and could find whatever it was he was looking for at will within seconds that no one else had managed to grasp yet.

"I'll order pizza. We're starving, and I doubt you've eaten." Grantaire pulled out a phone from his pocket and pressed speed dial. He winked and smiled when a girl's voice greeted him on the other end of the line.

"Where's Prouvaire?" Enjolras asked Marius, noting his friend's absence.

"On a date. With a waitress from the café you guys went to."

"What?!" Enjolras choked.

"Tou-something or other. _Your_ waitress, not the other one."

Enjolras let out a sigh of relief. So it wasn't the evil, not-a-prostitute waitress. Part of Enjolras felt bad for botching Combeferre's chances with her. The other part felt he'd possibly saved Combeferre from having his spinal cord ripped out and devoured.

Grantaire leaned onto the sofa, flirting effortlessly with the pizza girl on the phone. He had a slight musky tone to his voice that attracted girls like bees to honey; not to mention his looks, jovial personality, humour…he was a magnet for them.

"Speaking of which, Prouvaire mentioned a little incident at the café…?" Marius prodded Enjolras for details.

The latter groaned. "I asked a waitress if she wouldn't mind talking to Combeferre, who wouldn't stop ogling her. Then I spilled water on her, tried to apologize, and had my throat ripped out. Yes, I know, I know, I'm never playing wingman again. Nor had I intended to, really. Combeferre just wouldn't get off his fat ass and go talk to her himself." Enjolras sighed "I just don't understand women at all."

Marius laughed. "It's alright, mate." He patted Enjolras's back comfortingly.

"And guess what? We're getting extra toppings." Grantaire smirked as he hung up the phone, joining in the conversation.

"Of course we're getting extra toppings. That was practically phone sex." Marius replied.

Grantaire grinned. "What can I say? I'm a man of many talents."

"One of which you must share with Enjolras: Conversing with the female human specimen. Did you _really_ spill water on her?"

"Well… yes. No. Yes. I bumped into another waitress, who spilled the water on her." Enjolras explained, unhappily reliving the moment.

Marius hissed as if in pain, "Ouch. Did she explode or is she the silent rage sort?" he asked.

"I saw blazing fireballs shoot from her eyes and I was a fair distance away, so..." Grantaire laughed.

Storms demolished tiny villages mercilessly in Enjolras's deep blue eyes.

"I'd like to see you try. She'd have skinned you alive." he protested.

"Sure she would, mate." Grantaire said. "Which brings me to my next point. Marius, if you would."

"So we've been thinking. My good friend Éponine hasn't had much luck finding a guy, or a good one at least." Marius said, as his face darkened for a moment. Then he continued, "And you haven't been with a girl since…well we've never seen you with a girl. Ever. And you're a good guy, so…"

"What are you getting at?"

"Well maybe…we were hoping…"

"Why don't you and Éponine go on a date together?" Grantaire filled in for Marius.

"I'm—I—_what_?!" Enjolras was shocked. "A _what_?"

"A date. You know, you go to a nice place with a girl, talk and be romantic. They're quite fun, really." Grantaire shrugged. "And it's about time you lost your dating-virginity, Enjolras."

Enjolras glowered at him. "Is it this really necessary? I don't have timefor this." he groaned.

"Come on, live a little! And it's justa date, how bad could it be?" Grantaire said.

"Please, Enjolras? We hate to see you so alone all the time." Marius pouted. He looked like a cocker spaniel who had just messed on the rug, with his incredibly round, hazel eyes. Dammit.

Enjolras sighed. "Fine." Marius and Grantaire whooped at their success.

"What was her name, again?"

"Éponine. Éponine Thénardier."

"Oh." The name sounded familiar, like he'd heard it before, but Enjolras dismissed the thought as the doorbell rang.

They enjoyed their pizzas, and after successfully tackling their calculus homework, Marius and Grantaire returned to their homes.

Just before he fell asleep, however, Enjolras had the suspicious feeling that that wasn't the last he'd see of Miss Not-a-Prostitute.

**A/N: Hope you liked it! I wrote three different versions of this scene, but I think I like this one the most. Again, action based. Don't worry, there WILL be more in depth of Enjolras coming soon! It's all in the works! You'll soon find out what he thinks of money, I promise! I just hope this was sufficient enough for the time being, though.**

**Please tell me what you think! I LOVED ALL your kind comments on chapter 1! **

**PS: The one with the plane-crashing hand moment in the last chapter was Grantaire! Kudos to you if you got it! If not, it's okay, it's my fault, I was really REALLY unclear. I mean, the only clue I gave you was his "dark hair".**

**PPS: Toussaint was interested in Jehan Prouvaire! Oops. He has dark hair too. Well in this story, at least. **


	3. Chapter 3

Éponine jerked from sleep, pulling away from her world with Marius. She sat up and opened her eyes. Nothing. Love from a dream. A dream that would never come true. Éponine leaned back down and hit the back of her head against the wall with a brain cell killing _thunk_.

She was beginning to hate mornings.

And the phone was ringing, sending an army of dwarves hammering in her head. She hated that phone at that moment – not just that phone, but all phones that had ever rung on a morning.

She fell out of bed and pulled on her favourite blue jumper. Toussaint's bed was empty.

Goddammit.

She picked up the phone, "Hello?"

"Éponine?" the voice was cheery and ominously familiar. Her stomach prickled with the feeling of imminent humiliation.

She shoved the phone between her ear and her shoulder and started to lace up her shoes. "As always."

"This is Mr. McDonald." She heard laughter in the background. "I'm calling from English class."

A plethora of curses rang through her mind. She looked at the alarm clock. It read 9:05. But it must have been lying because Toussaint would never have left her there snoring away. "Very logical," she said, jerking her other shoe near her, "Seeing as you're an English teacher."

Mr. McDonald's voice was still very pleasant. "I thought so. So, the rest of the class and I were wondering if you were going to join us?" More laughter rang behind his voice.

"Am I on speaker phone?"

"Yes."

"Toussaint, I trusted you!" she shouted. To McDonald, she added, "Time must've gotten away from me. I'll be down in a moment."

"You said to go on without you!" Toussaint protested in the background. Éponine didn't remember such thing, but it sounded like something she'd say.

"I'm glad to hear it," McDonald said. "I was planning on having the class heckle you until you agreed to come, but this is much easier."

"I wouldn't miss your fascinating class for all the tea in China," she assured him. She stood up, "Your lectures are the highlight of my days here at Saint-Michel, if you don't mind me saying so."

"I never tire of hearing it. See you soon. Say bye to Éponine, class."

The class shouted bye at her and she hung up.

Hurriedly brushing her teeth and pulling her unruly hair into a ponytail, she grabbed her backpack and left the sound of Marius's voice and warmth of his touch behind her.

"Éponine," McDonald said pleasantly as she slid into her desk. "I trust you slept well?"

"Like fleets of angels were singing me to slumber," she assured him, pulling out her notebook.

"You look well for it," he replied, his eyes already on the chalkboard, "We were just getting ready to talk about our first writing project, Éponine. Metaphor. We've spent the first half of the class discussing metaphor. Familiar with the concept?"

She wrote _metaphor_ down on the page. "If only, if only, the woodpecker cries, the bark on the trees was as soft as the skies."

"Good," he continued to elaborate on metaphors and their usage on the board, all of which Éponine only half listened to. She'd already learnt all of it.

Her cellphone vibrated. Hiding it in the sleeve of her jumper, she snuck a glance at it.

It was a text message from Marius. It read, "Ponine, ive finlly found u a date!"

She dropped the phone.

"Éponine, I do hope you intend on listening in class after you've arrived," McDonald said, looking at her over the top rims of his glasses.

"O-of course." She stuttered. Her mind went blank.

She would not go through with this. It was too cruel.

Toussaint elbowed her. "What's up with you?" she mouthed. Éponine passed her the phone.

Toussaint's eyes went very round.

"So. Ten pages. Metaphor. Feel free to express it as creatively as you wish. That's the assignment. Outline due in two weeks." Mr. McDonald finished.

There were nineteen groans.

"Don't be infants," McDonald said. "It'll be pitifully easy. Lower schoolers could write metaphors. Pre-schoolers could write metaphors. I'm sure you all will think of something."

Éponine tucked her phone in her pocket, wrote the details of the assignment on her notebook so she wouldn't forget and frowned at it.

"On that note, get out of here, kids. And remember to bring. Me. Money." He winked at the students.

As everyone packed up and left the classroom with alarming speed, McDonald called Éponine aside.

"Éponine, I'll just slap your wrist this time. If this happens again…" he said.

"—I'll hang." She finished.

He nodded.

"I know you're not just the average kid," McDonald said. "There's more to you than you let on."

Éponine tried out various sentences in her head. _I have unusual depth _or_ I am a girl of many masks _or _It's about time someone noticed._ But none of them seemed right, so she said nothing.

McDonald shrugged. "There's more to us teachers than we let on too. If you every need someone to talk to, don't be afraid to talk to one of us. We have lives too. We don't just sleep in the cupboards at night and teach by day. And we actually do wear jeans."

Éponine looked straight at him. "Talk about what?"

"About my favourite casserole recipe. About why you're always the last student to return to the dorms each night. About why you look like hell right now."

"I work in a café." Éponine shrugged. "But I do want a good recipe for lasagna. That's a type of casserole, isn't it?"

His mouth made a rueful shape that looked like a cunning impersonation of a smile, and he said, "Go to your next class, Éponine."

"Are you _sure_?" Toussaint gaped at Éponine, as they sat at the table, eating lunch.

"For the thirty-eighth time, yes." Éponine sighed, "It's official, Tou. I have gone so deep into the friend zone that I've broken through the roof, and kept on going into space."

Toussaint whistled. "Gosh. But you know, what with his girlfriend, Co…Co…"

"Cosette."

"Right, her. Well, what with her in the picture, what are you waiting for, exactly? For them to break up? For him to go back to sulking and you to wiping his tears?"

"Well, I still have a chance…" Éponine mumbled.

"Honey, it's been two years. Two. Years." Her friend replied. "Why don't you give this Enjolras guy a chance?"

The name sent a strange shiver down her spine. Like she'd heard it before. In a dream, maybe.

"What, _use_ him? To make Marius jealous? You know I can't do that, Toussaint."

"No! I didn't mean it like that! I meant, he might be a nice guy. And he might like you. God knows you deserve a nice one for a change."

Éponine groaned. "But is this really necessary though? This'll waste my perfectly nice weekend..."

"I couldn't give a damn about your weekend; you'd probably spend it all away in the library. Again." Toussaint's deadpan voice answered. Éponine couldn't help crack a smile.

"Hey, that library is a blessing to this institution." Éponine replied defiantly.

"Yes, yes. But just go on this date please? For me, 'Ponine?" Toussaint's stared at her with large, Bambi eyes.

"Mmm…Will you let me borrow books on your account?"

"Only if you let me decide what you wear on your date."

Éponine hesitated.

"It's only for a _day_, 'Ponine."

"Fine. Deal."

Toussaint cheered and hugged Éponine. "Yay! Thank you, thank you! I'm so excited! You have no idea how long I've wanted to doll you up. This'll be so much fun!"

Éponine sighed and smiled.

**A/N: Just to clarify: She and Mr. McDonald share witty, sarcastic banter. He's not mean. He's my lovely foil :) Oh, and Saint-Michel is Éponine and Toussaint's boarding school.**

**I adore all your wonderful comments! :)**

**The blind date's coming up soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

"It's the way that you…It's the way that…the amazing…oh shit, what was it? The amazing—" Éponine snapped her fingers and jumped on the spot, racking her brain for the words.

"Who are you talking to?" a voice from behind her questioned.

"Whoa!" Éponine cried, whipping around. "Jesus, you just-you just scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry."

President Mobile Phone.

"No, it's fine. I just, I thought I was alone, that's all. What are you doing here?" she asked, pointedly.

"Breathing."

"Come again?"

"It's stuffy in there and I didn't want to be here in the first place. You can't breathe in there." He cocked his back at the house. "So I came out here. So…you were talking to yourself?"

"What's it to you?"

"Ah. I take it you're still mad about what happened at the café."

"Oh, what gave it away?" Éponine replied curtly, looking at him with cold eyes that would turn a lesser man to ice.

"Look, I'm- I'm really sorry about what I did. I'm not good at talking to people one-on-one…big crowds, I can work with; but…and I didn't know you either, and-and you were a _girl_ and God knows I've had a pathetically small amount of experience with girls and—"

Éponine sighed. Even she could see he was trying hard to apologize; tripping over his words like that, looking at the ground like a chastised child, and kicking his feet at the asphalt.

"Alright, alright, I forgive you, don't hurt yourself. Just watch what you say next time. Not all of us are privileged enough to be drinking from S. Pellegrino bottles since age 6, okay?" she sighed. "Truce?"

President Mobile Phone breathed a sigh of relief. "Truce. So… you go to Leblanc?"

Éponine snorted, "As if. I go to Saint-Michel. And you're a West End boy."

Mobile Phone blinked at her.

"Logic. There are only two high schools for the financially blessed students like yourself: Leblanc and West End. Seeing as you aren't wearing sparkling pink lip gloss and gallons of black eyeliner, you must be from West End. Do you know whose party this is, by the way?"

"No, not a clue. I got dragged here by my friends. They're all womanizers and they're just here for some 'fun'." He indicated the quotes with his fingers.

"The girls I who brought me here aren't even my friends. They're just looking to find a couple of good kissers and they'll be happy."

"Well every night my friends and I just go out and call people to find the nearest party and go there. Then they end up making out with whichever willing sophomore girl."

"Sounds like our friends should get to know each other."

"Yeah. Why were you talking to yourself out here?"

"I kinda have this one guy that I'm interested in."

"So what's his name?"

"Bob."

"Really?"

"No."

"Ah…so, what's your name?" he asked, leaning against the wall.

"Éponine."

"Éponine? I'm Enjolras. So you go to Saint Michel, and you're a…senior?"

"Junior."

"Right. Of course."

"What's that supposed to mean? What, I'm not mature enough for you?"

"No, no of course not! I mean, of course you are, I just…well you don't have that look in your eye. You know what I mean?"

"Not sure that I do."

"That desperate kind of demented look, that … woo! I'm a senior, graduating soon and my days of drunk high school parties are nearly over…look."

"You don't have it."

"Yeah, and my friends won't shut the hell up about it. So does this guy like you back?"

"No. Well, yes. And no. Yes?"

Enjolras cocked his eyebrows.

Éponine sighed. "As a friend. But I think he's going to hook up with Amelie Magnon tonight. That's why I'm out here. I couldn't exactly sit in there and watch the guy I'm in love with make out with the hottest girl ever. It was torture."

"Want some gum?" Enjolras offered.

"Sure. Thanks." Éponine took the candy from his proffered hand, her fingers brushing against his momentarily. Enjolras's hand made the minutest twitch at the unfamiliar touch. He'd never touched a girl's hand before. There was a brief silence.

"Well, I should probably be heading back inside before, you know, they leave without me…" he said, walking slowly back towards the door. Éponine nodded, looking down at the mint gum in her hand.

As Enjolras's hand closed around the doorknob, she called, "Actually wait, hey, let me ask you a question."

"Yeah?" he blinked his eyes questioningly.

"Do you think that there's any chance I could, I could say something to this guy…tell him how I feel, that could, you know, make him fall for me? You know?" her brown eyes mingled with hope and anxiety.

"What do you have in mind?"

Éponine rummaged through her pockets and pulled out a wrinkled paper, torn in some corners and very worn out.

"Wow." Enjolras raised his eyebrows.

"Ma-" she stopped herself and bit her lip, looking nervous.

"Bob." Enjolras helped.

"Right. Thanks. Bob. I—Lately I've been feeling like there's so much noise. There's so much to keep up with and so many voices competing for attention: school, teachers, friends, magazines, my job, the living exp—well, what's hot, what's not, popular music, who's cool, who's not cool enough, and I- and I feel like it all just builds up like static and I can't even hear myself think." Éponine took a deep breath and her voice took a different tone. "But then I look at you. And you're wearing your favourite blue T-shirt and leaning against your locker across the hallway. And you see me. And you smile. You smile your crooked smile and it-it takes my breath away every time. And then all the noise just fades out. All I hear is the sound of your voice. Talking to me. Saying my name."

Éponine looked up from the paper at Enjolras. He blinked. Once. Twice. He opened his mouth. He closed it.

She misunderstood his silence. "Oh god. Oh my-oh my god I can't believe I…I'm too embarrassed to even live right now. I mean, holy— "

"No, I—"

"I can't believe I said that out loud. Even to you, I can't believe I was going to say that to him, I _was_, trust me, I—" she continued.

"No, no, it's not that, it's just that…he probably doesn't even care about that shit, I mean… the part about the noise and the magazines? Definitely not the part about his crooked smile. Trust me, that'll just creep him out." Enjolras explained. "All he wants right now is to find some down to earth girl who won't freak him out. And if you can be that girl, then more power to you! But if you can't then… you're never going to be his girl."

"I'm never going to be his girl, am I?" Éponine sat down at the wall.

"Not with that attitude, my friend, no."

Éponine sighed and looked at her paper. Her brown curls tumbled over her shoulder.

"Are you going to go back inside or…?" he began.

"Oh… well they're all probably hooking up with somebody right now, and I would have to go around and unhook them, which I don't feel like doing so…"

"Then don't." he said, sitting down next to her.

"Alright. I won't." the whisper of a smile crept on her face, pulling up a corner of her mouth ever so slightly.

"Okay."

"Okay."

_Give me love, like her. 'Cause lately I've been waking up alone…Paint splattered teardrops on my shirt, told you I'd let them go…_

"This song is amazing." Éponine sighed.

"Yeah it is. Amazing."

They sat there, looking up at the stars and listening to Ed Sheeran's soft, lulling voice.

"Wanna dance with me?" Enjolras asked, suddenly.

"What?"

"I don't know… I mean, do you- do you want to dance with me?" he asked again.

"Mm.. ahh.. no. No." she shook her head firmly, keeping her eyes looking straight ahead.

"Way to put it to me gently there. Why not?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"I-I can't dance. And I have a thing against PDA, I mean…I mean really, guys? Really, you're just going to make out in front of everyone? Seriously?" she avoided his gaze, still shocked at his offer.

"First of all, sure you can. Come on, it's easy. Just follow my lead. And second of all, we're all alone here. And it's just one dance, come on." He stood up and held out his hand.

_Give a little time to me, we'll burn this out. We'll play hide and seek, to turn this around…_

She smiled up at him and took his hand. "Well aren't you a gentleman?" He gently placed her hands around his neck.

Éponine had never danced with a boy before. Determined to hide her anxiety, she looked to her left and laughed, "Wow, this sure is cheesy. All we need now is some rain, and we'll fit right into a Nicholas Sparks novel."

Enjolras grinned. "See, this isn't so bad is it?" They swayed slowly to the music.

"I guess it's all right. Even though it is the cheesiest cheesy thing." She smiled, despite herself.

She had the cutest freckles.

He had such deep blue eyes.

_All I want is the taste that your lips allow, my my, my my, oh give me love. Give a little time to me, we'll burn this out. We'll play hide and seek to turn this around…_

Up close, he saw that she had flecks of gold sparkling in her chestnut eyes.

She looked right into his eyes and said, "You're cellphone's vibrating."

"Huh?" Enjolras blurted out, snapping out of his dreamlike state. "What? Oh. Oh right."

They broke apart awkwardly and she looked at the ground, blushing slightly as she let him check his text.

The music had stopped playing.

"What is it?" she asked, as he stared at his cellphone for a second too long.

"Uhh it's just, the cops are here."

"_What?_"

"Erm yeah…"

"Where's your car?"

"It's at the uh.. it's with um…" he stuttered, gaping at two girls who had just run out of the backyard door, screaming and barely clothed.

"Enjolras! Focus!"

"Right! Um well the keys are with Grantaire…"

"Who?"

A teenager burst through the door and yelled "They're handcuffing people, they're taking down names, it's every man for himself! Let's get the hell out of here!"

Enjolras and Éponine, shocked, looked at each other and blinked.

"What's wrong with you assholes? Let's go!"

They snapped out of their reverie and ran.

* * *

"Shit, they already left!" Enjolras swore at the empty parking space.

"Hang on, I'll call—" Éponine began, but her eye caught a certain boy running across the street in a dark blue t shirt, his hand clasped with a girl's. He smiled at her as they ran away from the party.

Marius.

Éponine felt a bit of her heart break off as she watched them. She couldn't look away.

"Come on, let's get the hell out of here." Enjolras said, pulling at her elbow and breaking the spell. "My place is a few blocks away, wanna walk with me for a bit?"

"Okay." She said, her voice cracking.

**A/N: MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES FOR NOT UPDATING IN AGES! And for not keeping my promise because we still aren't at the date yet :P I'm never making promises again. And yes I am aware of the contradiction embodied in that sentence.**

**This chapter is super long though! 1853 words long, so forgive me please?**

**Oh by the way, I have this awful problem. Whenever I hear or read something absolutely wonderful that I love, I memorize it subconsciously. I kid you not, the more I like it, the faster I'll subconsciously pick it up. I could recount every single line in _When Harry Met Sally_ to you right now. Really. It drives everyone insane when we watch it.**

**That, plus I'm a huge Maggie Stiefvater fan, so I practically devour her novels and yeah, the last chapter was HEAVILY influenced by her book _Lament_. And this chapter was heavily influenced by, and largely based on the movie _The First Time_ that came out last October! I _adore_ that movie, and if you haven't seen it, you definitely, definitely should. I hope I did it justice**

**This is heavy, heavy dialogue and fast paced, which is pretty new to me (even after starting my other fic Look Down) so please please please comment! Was it okay? LOVED all your kind comments on chapter 3!**

**PS: Someone asked if they were in high school or uni, and I'm sorry for the confusion! They're in highschool :)**

**PPS: If you guys read my entire A/Ns, I LOVE YOU. They are just so painfully long and boring and oh my god I love you to death if you actually read the whole fat chunk of wordiness at the end of every one of these chapters.**


	5. Chapter 5

"So what are you gonna do when you go to college?" Éponine asked, scuffing her shoe along the pavement. They had walked a few blocks away from the sabotaged party.

"I want to teach. Make a change in the world somewhere. I want to live in New York and teach."

It was such a lovely, simple answer that it took Éponine aback. She blinked.

"Wow, so you pretty much know exactly what you want to do."

"Yeah." He shrugged and placed his hands in his pockets. Placed, Éponine noticed. He had this air about him that demanded respect. As if it were physically impossible for him to do anything sloppy. An elegance that did not question masculinity, and made Éponine raise her eyebrow slightly.

"What about you?"

Éponine stuffed her hands in the pockets of her hoodie."I uhh… no idea. I read some, but my English grades are worse than my grades for Biology. And I hate bio. It doesn't make sense."

"Biology or your illogical grades?"

"Both."

"Ah."

They walked in silence. Comfortable silence.

"Are you… are you happy?" Éponine cringed when her voice cracked at the end of 'happy'.

"Happy?" Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows by a fraction.

"Yeah. Content, or what have you."

"I'm not _un_happy."

"That doesn't answer the question."

Enjolras sighed, but without frustration. "I suppose I just want to… to get out of here. I want to do something. I want to make a change."

"Mmm."

"What about you? Are you happy?"

Éponine stared at the asphalt for a moment. "…Yeah. Right now I am. Surprisingly enough."

He looked at her.

"What? Life's thrown a few curveballs, is all. Nothing I can't handle."

The curve of Enjolras's mouth twitched. It wasn't quite a smile, but not a frown either.

They reached a tall brick building. Éponine squinted at it. It was probably red, but everything is black at night. It towered over her.

"Well, this is me." Enjolras said.

"Oh." Éponine studied the building. "It looks…like it's got an attitude."

Enjolras chuckled. A low friendly sound that filled Éponine with… warmth.

"Yeah, I suppose it does. Do you.. Do you wanna hang out sometime?"

"What…were we just doing?" Éponine replied, looking at him warily.

"No… I just…I don't know…"

It clicked. She raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me for my number?"

"I was easing into it."

"Mm." Éponine mulled over it. "Okay."

Enjolras blinked. "Okay fine?"

"Yes. Go. Give it to me."

Enjolras pulled out his iPhone and handed it to her. She assessed the device, flipping it this way and that, and finally began typing.

"Do you wanna come in for a second?" Enjolras asked.

"What about your parents?"

"I live alone."

Éponine looked at him. His blue eyes blinked back at her innocently. Seemed safe enough, but she made one last precaution.

"Do you have hot chocolate?"

"Do I – What?" Enjolras looked bewildered.

"Cocoa. Hot chocolate. Do you have it?"

"Yeah.."

"Okay then." She grinned at him. "Lead the way then, Enjolras."

They walked up the grand wooden staircase, and Éponine took a deep breath, sliding her fingers along the wooden handle.

Enjolras unlocked the door and swung it open. He flicked on the lights and Éponine gasped.

The library was enormous. There were shelves everywhere, and bulletins in the spaces too small to fit bookshelves. Papers and books were strewn all over the floor, leaving very little space to walk. A small upright piano sat obediently at the wall. For a moment, she didn't dare breathe for fear of ruining the moment.

Suddenly shy, she looked up at Enjolras and asked "Can I…?" tilting her head towards the flat, her eyes wide and eager.

"Knock yourself out. I'll make cocoa."

Éponine explored every corner of the library, pulling out books from the shelves to flip through, picking up papers from the floor, exclaiming when she came across books in different languages. Tall windows revealed the city lights of the square, and Éponine gazed at the people outside; old men in trench coats and strolling down the path, couples whispering to each other underneath the lampposts, and friends giggling with each other. The apartment was everything she had ever dreamed of.

"Milk or Dark chocolate?" Enjolras's voice called from the kitchen, snapping her from her reverie.

"Dark."

"Marshmallows?"

"Yes, please."

"Cinnamon?"

"Do you have to ask?" She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Enjolras walked in holding two steaming cups of hot chocolate, adding a bittersweet aroma to the room. Éponine was sitting in his chair by his writing desk, leaning her head back and looking at the ceiling.

She blew her cocoa gently. "It pains me to say this, but you have excellent taste in living spaces."

"That's a first. No comment about the mess?"

"What mess?"

He smiled.

Éponine swiveled around in her chair to face the windows. "This place must look gorgeous in the afternoon with those tall windows. Like the Hall of Mirrors."

"In Versailles?" he asked.

She nodded. "Once, when I went there, we got separated from my little brother. We spent the rest of the afternoon searching for him until the guards started pushing us towards the exit through the Hall of Mirrors. Everyone was gone by then, so it was completely empty." She sighed wistfully, her eyes glowing with memory. "The sunlight streaming in through the windows and bouncing off the golden statues and the whole room just filled with golden afternoon light. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Can you imagine that's what Louis XIV saw every day? I don't think he ever got sick of it either. I don't imagine anyone could. It was like… magic." She smiled at the happy memory.

He looked down at his cup, the colours swirling together like dancers. "Why did you ask about hot chocolate? Before?"

"Well what good is a home without hot chocolate?"

"Seriously."

"Hm. I felt cheated of my Saturday night by a broken up party and an unlucky sight that I had the misfortune to see. Nothing some hot chocolate can't cure. And if I was walking into your apartment completely unaware of the horrors I might find within, I would at least have liked some hot cocoa with it."

"What if I had lied?"

"You didn't."

"How would you have known?"

Éponine rolled her eyes. "If I could pick the least likely person to lie to me or doink me tonight, I'd pick you."

They sat in silence for a while, drinking the rich chocolate. Then she said, "Do you play?" gesturing at the piano.

"No, I keep that purely for decoration. That corner of the room is too empty. Sometimes in the winter, I put ornaments on it and it acts as my Christmas tree."

She ignored his sarcasm. "Play something."

"What?"

"Anything."

He didn't have anything else to do. Placing his cup down, he walked to the piano and sat down. Rubbing his hands together for warmth, he placed his fingers on the ivory keys and began to play. He chose a soft relaxing melody, light and smooth as silk.

When he finished, Éponine was asleep, a small smile resting on her features. She breathed quietly, the tiny hairs on her face moving to and fro.

Enjolras lifted her up and carried her to his bed. Laying her down carefully and pulling the covers around her, he saw her smile and sigh, "Always the gentleman."

He stood and looked at her sleeping figure. She wasn't like the girls from Leblanc who teased at him on the streets, or the giggling girls Grantaire always had an arm around with shy smiles. She was so different.

As he lay on the couch with a wool blanket, his last thought was the rich smell of dark chocolate still lingering in the air.

**A/N: Oh god for shame, I haven't updated in MONTHS. Commitment is not my thing, I am afraid. I like a over-talkative Éponine and Enjolras the good listener. I like that match.**

**And I'm sorry this isn't my best work, but I really wanted to get on to the next few chapters.**

**Reviews pleeease :)**


	6. Chapter 6

"Is that?" a voice asked.

"It can't be." Another answered.

"But it is."

"A _girl_." The two said in unison, with great awe.

Éponine blinked at the sunlight pouring in, and saw two pairs of bright eyes gazing down at her.

"Can I – help you?" she croaked, pushing herself onto her elbows against the pillows.

"You're a girl." The red head gawked.

"Last time I checked." She lazily cocked an eyebrow at him.

The one with jet-black hair and gleaming green eyes flourished with charm. "My apologies, my lady. If you would grace us with your name, perhaps… you see, we have never found our dear friend Enjolras with a female specimen within 5 metres of distance to him, and you, my dear, are sleeping in his _bed_." He smiled. "However did you manage it?"

"I uh... huh?" she put a hand in front of her face to block the sun.

"Oh forgive me, I forgot my manners. I am Grantaire, and this young fellow is Combeferre. Pleasure to meet you." He swept aside for her to climb off the bed and grasp her bearings.

"You haven't met me yet. I'm Éponine. Now you've met me. Hello. What time is it?"

"10 o'clock. Sunday morning."

10 o'clock Sunday morning. It struck a dull nerve. What was it? 10 o'clock Sunday morning. Must've been _something_.10 o'clock Sunday morning. 10 o'clock Sunday morning. 10 o'-

"CRAP! MYRIEL!" she shouted, causing Grantaire and Combeferre to jump back.

"I'm sorry?" Grantaire blinked. Combeferre took a second wavering step backwards.

"Listen, it's been great meeting you, but I have to go." She ran out to the library to see a tall figure prodding Enjolras on the couch with his foot.

"Enjolras? Are you awake?"

At the sound of her voice, the figure turned. Éponine's voice caught in her throat.

"Marius?"

"Éponine?"

"I take it you two know each other already." Enjolras rubbed his eyes and sat up.

"Listen, it's been fun, but I need to get to work. _Now_." She did an essentials check: cell phone, keys, wallet, bra. All good. She made for the door.

"I'll drive you." Enjolras stood up, looking perfectly awake, aside from a slightly crumpled t-shirt and his hair sticking up at the back.

Éponine blinked. Then nodded.

"Okay."

After they left, Grantaire strolled up to Combeferre and Marius still gawking at the closed front door, leaning his head in and cocking it at the door.

"Is it just me, or did she seem familiar?"

Marius felt the sinking feeling in his stomach as if he had forgotten something very important.

* * *

Éponine picked up the phone.

The words fought to fly out of her mouth. "HiTou, I'msosorry, I- I oversleptbutI'mhurlingtowardsyourightthisminute! Please cover for me! I'm so sorry!"

"Ponine, Ponine slow down! What are you talking about? Today's your blind date, remember? Where in the bloody hell are you?"

Éponine dropped the phone.

"Is everything alright?" Enjolras asked, raising his eyebrows.

The phone hit the speakerphone button as it hit the floor. Tou's voice continued to blast from it.

"Ponine, pick up the damn phone, I know you dropped it. It's a wonder the thing's survived till now with you smashing it on the floor every chance you've got…But honestly, woman! Get your furry white ass back here! You _promised_ me I could do your makeup!"

Enjolras raised his eyebrows even higher.

Éponine scrambled to pick the phone up and turn it off speakerphone, all the while feeling her cheeks burn up.

"You're shitting me right. This is a bad dream. This is a bad, God-awful nightmare that I am going to wake up from in 3…2…"

"ENJOLRAS IS PROBABLY WAITING FOR YOU RIGHT THIS BLOODY MINUTE! NOW HAUL-ASS OVER HERE!"

Needless to say, Enjolras heard even with speakerphone turned off. He looked at Éponine. Éponine looked at him.

"Tou… could you throw me that name one more time?"

"Oh I'll throw it at you when you get here, you can count on it. Enjolras. Marius's friend. Your blind date. How wasted did you get last night?" Tou was seething with rage.

"Ohhh kay. Yeah. I'll see you there then. Can you keep the backdoor unlocked? Thanks. See you soon, Tou!" She clicked the phone off.

"What just happened?" Enjolras asked.

She grinned at him. "Guess what, we're hanging out again."

**A/N: Shorter chapter. Angry people are so fun to document. Please review! I adore all of them :)**

**PS: No, the party was not their date. It was pure coincidence.**


	7. Chapter 7

When Éponine and Enjolras rang the doorbell, the door swung open to reveal a very distressed Toussaint.

Toussaint blinked. Then she closed the door. Opened it again. Gawked. Then closed it again.

"Tou! It's me!" Éponine rapped her knuckles on the door. "Open up, please!"

The door opened a crack.

"There's a boy. At our door. With you. Did Hell freeze over while I was sleeping?"

"Tou."

"Alright, alright, come in!" Tou replied. "Sorry about the mess though, Boy."

Enjolras shrugged.

Tou whipped around to Éponine.

"The party was broken up! I thought you'd been caught! Jesus, woman, never do that to me ever again!"

Laughter bubbled from Éponine's lips. Tou could be her friend and mother at the same time.

"It's _not funny_!"

"C'mon Tou. It's a little funny."

Tou harrumphed and cross her arms in a pout.

"Right. Enjolras, this is Tou. Tou, Enjolras. He's my date."

Tou gaped. "You brought him _here_? You—I—What—"

She yanked Éponine's arm to the washroom. "You know what, never mind. Can't say I expected any less. Come on, I've already picked out your clothes. Boy, you can sit at her bed."

Enjolras turned and noticed the stark contrast between the two desks and the bunkbed. The top bunk was decorated with fairy lights, covered with plump, baby-coloured pillows, and very neatly made and tucked in. Polaroids with detailed handwritten descriptions hung neatly along the wall. The bottom bunk looked as if a mole had burrowed through the covers, which were a reddish brown and looked very practical. Books stuck out in the edge of the bed or were scattered on the floor below it, worn from years of use. A map of Europe with ripped corners was taped on the wall.

He could hear Tou fussing over Éponine through the bathroom door, and Éponine's protests.

The desks were no less in opposites. One had books and notes neatly stacked to one side, nail polish and pens to the other. The other had books and papers all stuffed to one side, with a blank space on the other, and a very large black pencil case. The wall beside it was covered in collages and photographs of smiles, laughter, Christmas, and youth. Enjolras examined a photo of a grinning little boy, bright hazel eyes dancing with mischief.

"That's Gavroche. My little brother. He loves toy soldiers and climbing. He's insufferable and I love him."

He turned.

Éponine wore a slight bit of eyeliner, and very natural makeup that emphasized her round, chocolate eyes. Her curly hair was expertly tied in a bun, with a few fly-away hairs. She wore a white T-shirt with 'Bite Me' across the front and jean shorts. A grey hoodie was tied around her waist.

Enjolras felt strange. "I'm not…presentable for a date right now."

"You look fine."

"I just woke up."

"So did I."

Silence.

Éponine rolled her eyes. "Alright, if it makes you feel any better, here." She walked up to him and pat down the wrinkles in his T-shirt and hoodie.

"There." She gave him an approving nod. "Now that you're all prim and proper, can we go?"

"Where would you like to go?"

She grinned mischievously. "I've got an idea."

**A/N: I know it's short, and I'm sorry! I'm saving the full date for the next chapter! Thanks so much for your kind reviews, please keep reviewing!**

**PS: I've recently discovered the song "Asleep" by The Smiths and I can't get enough of it.**


	8. Chapter 8

Toussaint had put up a rough fight, but Éponine won in the end. Tou pouted the whole while when they were leaving.

"You look so drab…" she whined, "The flowery dress would've looked wonderful on you..."

Éponine hated it when she was right. The dress accentuated her curves, and made her look sweet and adorable. The thing was, she wasn't sweet and adorable. That wasn't her.

"I like these clothes." Éponine shrugged.

"They're horrendous for a date."

"They're comfortable. A date should be comfortable, so why shouldn't I start with what I'm wearing? Hey, I let you stab at a dangerously close proximity to my eyeball with a _pencil_."

"For the last time, it's called _eyeliner_! And it's perfectly harmless."

Éponine scoffed, "I beg to differ."

* * *

She looked at Enjolras curiously as he drove. He didn't talk much. He only said what he needed to say, and was always direct. She smiled.

"Make a left here." She told him.

"You know, it'd be much easier if you just told me where we were going."

"I like the element of surprise."

"Why am I not surprised."

Éponine grinned and nudged him lightly. "Oh, right here. Yeah. On the right."

As they got out of the car, Enjolras's eyes widened a fraction. Éponine looked like she could barely contain her excitement.

"Come on!" she laughed, grabbing his hand and running into the little, independent bookstore. They admitted a rush of stifling hot air in as they opened the door with a _ding_. "I love this place, even more than the school library. I come here as often as I can. I finally got a job here! I start Monday, can you believe it? Have you ever been here before?"

"I work here."

Éponine's jaw dropped.

"No way! How come I've never— no! I must've— how, how come I've never noticed you?"

"I don't know. I've never noticed you either." He furrowed his eyebrows a little.

"Hm. Well fair enough, I suppose. Oh, hello Mrs. Blemeur! How are you?" she waved at the lady behind the cashier.

"Éponine! And who's thi— Enjolras? You don't work Sundays, remember, sweetie?"

"He's my date for the day."

"Oh?" Mrs. Blemeur raised a knowing eyebrow that made Enjolras shuffled his feet nervously. "Well, Ponine, take good care of him now. He's my best employee, and your future co-worker! Have fun, you two!"

The morning sun was shining through the windows, scattering light all through the bookstore. The stairs moaned in protest as they climbed upstairs.

The shelves were a warm, chestnut wood, piled with spines of every colour. The smell of unread words hung in the air. A battered burgundy sofa sat against the wall.

Éponine turned around and faced him.

"This is what I love." Her eyes sparkled. "I could just live here. Wait. Sit. Let me get something."

Enjolras obeyed, hands in his pockets, observing her. Unaware of his stare, Éponine crouched, running her fingers along spines like they were old friends. He watched the slope of her shoulders, the tilt of her head, the way one hand braced the floor as she knelt by the shelves.

"Aha!" she cried, making her way over to the sofa. He glanced at the book in her hand. Romeo and Juliet. Huh.

Her eyes gleamed mischievously. "It's bad luck to read anything from a tragic love story on a date. Or so Tou's told me only a couple hundred times."

"Which is exactly why we're doing it, isn't it?"

"Bingo." She bounced down beside him and flipped it open to Act III, scene ii. She took a deep breath, and began.

"Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night,  
Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,  
Take him and cut him out in little stars,  
And he will make the face of heaven so fine  
That all the world will be in love with night  
And pay no worship to the garish sun."

Her voice was smooth honey, captivating and soft and sweet. Blessed with childish innocence and the cold, cruel truth of the world at the same time. Beautiful and almost.. broken.

For a moment, he was at a loss for words.

She misunderstood the look on his face. "It's beautiful, isn't it? I _adore_ Shakespeare."

"Why did you do this?"

She blinked at him. "I thought we already established that. It's because I want to—"

"No, why are you showing me everything about you? You've only known me for a day and half, why are you opening up so much?"

She replied without hesitation, her eyes unwavering.

"Because I trust you." Simple as that.

"I… oh." He blinked.

"Ooh, is the great Enjolras speechless? I never thought I'd live to see the day." She grinned and nudged him playfully. "Come on, let's find some more books, I know you want to."

* * *

The sun had become brilliant by the time they walked out of the bookstore, and with a shock Éponine realized how much time had passed. On cue, her stomach pinched with hunger.

"Lunch," she said. "Immediately. I'm going to wither away to absolutely nothing. And then you'll be racked with guilt."

"I don't doubt it." Enjolras took her little bag of new books and put them in his car. "I know a good sandwich shop by the park nearby."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

* * *

They strolled in the park holding their brown paper bags. Finding a bench, they sat down and pulled out their sandwiches, his BLT and her grilled cheese.

After a few minutes of eating in silence, Éponine looked at Enjolras methodically chewing his bite.

"You don't talk much." It wasn't a question. It wasn't an accusation either.

He looked at her. "And you talk too much."

She shrugged. "Maybe. But you don't mind it."

"No. I don't." he smiled at that.

"Hey, what's that?"

"What's what?"

"That."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm happy."

She smiled and nodded. "Good. You need to be happier more often."

"How do you know that? You've only known me a few days."

"Two."

"Exactly."

"It's been enough."

He turned to her. "Alright then, All-seeing One. Describe me."

"Serious."

Enjolras translated: "Killjoy."

"Intelligent."

"Zero social life."

"Thoughtful."

"Feng shui."

Éponine laughed so hard she snorted. "How do you get _feng shui _out of 'thoughtful'?"

"You know, because in feng shui, you arrange furniture and plants in thoughtful ways." he shrugged. "To make you calm. Zenlike. Or something. I'm not one hundred percent sure how it all works, besides the thoughtful part."

She playfully punched his arm. Dull orange-brown leaves, dry and dead, swirling in a waltz in the wind at her feet. Summer leaves clung to the branches and fluttered, waiting for the gust of wind that would knock them to the ground.

"You're beautiful and sad," she said finally, not looking at him when she did. "Just like your eyes. You're like a song I heard when I was a little kid but forgot I knew until I heard it again."

For a long moment, there was only the rustling sound of the leaves and the far off giggles of children playing in the distance, and then Enjolras said softly, "Thank you."

Éponine looked at her hands clasped together in her lap and twiddled her thumbs for a bit, uncomfortably nervous.

"Éponine?"

"Yes?"

"There's a caterpillar on your arm."

Éponine screamed and jumped up and down, wiggling her arms this way and that, trying to shake it off. She _hated_ bugs.

Enjolras laughed, holding up the wriggling caterpillar trapped between his index finger and thumb. She screamed again and ran from him. He chased her with it around the whole park, laughing all the while.

**A/N: In case there's any confusion, Ponine's off work today, for a well-deserved day off, so no worries in that department. I loved this date! Please review :)**


	9. Chapter 9

Enjolras lay in bed, arms tucked behind his head, and staring up at the incandescent moon, partially hidden beneath the embrace of its jealous lover, the clouds.

Éponine.

At Leblanc, the girl would never have been considered anything but common, he knew. She had a round pale face, a small button nose, and slightly crooked teeth. Enjolras had noticed all that the first time he'd seen her, when she had snapped at him at Café Myriel. Lately, though, he was noticing some other things. When she smiled, the crooked teeth didn't seem to matter. Her warm chocolate eyes sparkled with flecks of gold and beamed with intelligence and passion, and her dimples made his gut clench.

But he was a junior, and he needed to focus. College app essays needed to be written, tests needed to be aced, and universities needed to be wooed. He couldn't waste his time thinking about anything else. Or anyone else. He couldn't.

He needed to focus.

He needed to

He needed

The last image that came to his mind before sleep overtook him, was Éponine laughing, like bells tinkling in the breeze. He fell asleep with the whisper of a smile caressing his marble face.

* * *

Éponine kicked off her shoes as she shut the door behind her. She looked up to see a very excited Toussaint waiting for details, eyes round as a cocker spaniel's.

"So how'd it go? Howditgohowditgohowditgo?" She bounced up and down, eyes fervent with expectation and glee.

"It was fun." Éponine smiled.

Tou gave her a look. "Come on Ponine, you've got to give me more to work with than just _fun_."

"We went to a bookstore and ate sandwiches at the park."

"What's he like? He's cuute." She teased.

"That he is." Éponine allowed herself a small smile. "And it's… it's just different with him. Different than with Marius."

"Is it now?" Toussaint raised an eyebrow knowingly.

"Oh, shut up Tou. Anyway, you never finished telling me about your date with erm… Pous.. Pois.. Poisson?"

Toussaint rolled her eyes. "His name is Prouvaire. And he's absolutely adorable, you won't believe it Éponine!"

Toussaint continued to talk ardently about her beloved Prouvaire for the next two hours, as Éponine mmm'd and ahh'd with perfect timing. She didn't particularly enjoy listening to Tou rant on, but it made Tou happy, so she listened anyway.

When Tou was busy daydreaming again, she sighed and got up. "Come on, school tomorrow. Shower and sleep." Tou pouted, but obeyed.

As Éponine lay in bed, she didn't collapse into slumber as usual. Instead she rolled over on her other side so she could see the moon, radiant and spilling light through the window. It whispered of possibilities.

With Marius, she always had to please, to accommodate. When she was honest with herself, even she admitted it was exhausting.

But it had been different with Enjolras. It had been so…easy.

But she loved Marius.

But

She groaned. It was confusing, and she didn't like being confused.

She went to sleep with her eyebrows slightly furrowed, and the moon whispering to her.

Her last thought was how the moon reminded her of his brilliant eyes, a perfect kaleidoscope of every colour of blue there was, kindness, and

Wait.

What?

**A/N: I know it's short, I'm sorry! I just… it would be weird if I put the next bit after this. Contrast's too eh. I'm already working on something for the next chapter :) Thank you all so so much for your kind reviews, they really keep me going! Will update soon!**


	10. Chapter 10

Work the next day after school had been all seriousness. Mrs. Blemeur had patiently taught Éponine the ropes, and Éponine had diligently followed her instructions. The shop wasn't well manned, so she and Enjolras both carried on with their work single-mindedly, with very little time to talk in between.

When their shifts were over and they were making their way out of the bookstore, Éponine asked Enjolras, "How'd you get here? I don't see your car."

He looked at her and read _The Voices Are Telling Me Not to Trust You_ on her t-shirt.

"Grantaire dropped me off." His friend had been on his way to pick up his date and the bookstore was on the way there. Grantaire had drove off, whistling happily. Enjolras pulled out his phone and started dialing a number.

"Oh. I'll take you home, then."

He looked up from the phone. "I beg your pardon?"

She rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm. "Come on, President Mobile Phone. You'll catch your death out here. And then I'll have to do the entire inventory at the shop alone."

Enjolras let her pull him along; he knew full well there was no convincing her otherwise.

They reached a small car. It looked like it had been through hell several times. It wore its reddish brown coat (that had seen better days, Enjolras was sure) with undeniable pride. He read one of the bumper stickers, _Be Careful Around Dragons, For You Are Crunchy & Good With Ketchup._

"Shut up. It has character." Éponine patted the roof of the car as she strolled up to it.

"I didn't say anything."

She looked at him, realization dawning. "Oh. Oops. You're not going to…?" Everyone always had a snide, sarcastic, or blunt comment about her car.

"No."

"Oh." She blinked. "Okay."

Enjolras lived in his apartment on weekends, but in the dorms during the week, so they were heading to West End. As she drove them back, she caught the glow of her phone out of the corner of her eye. She picked it up and glanced at the number. Mom. Putting the phone on speaker, she set it on the dash. "Yeah."

"Ponine?"

"Yeah."

"Who is this?"

"Your darling daughter. Fruit of your womb. Sprung from Dad's—"

Her mother cut her off. "It sounds like you're in a wind tunnel."

"I'm driving."

"In a wind tunnel?"

Éponine leaned forward and slid the phone closer. "You're on speakerphone. Better?"

"Hardly. Why are you driving? Don't you have school?"

She wedged the phone into the sun visor. It was probably still noisy, but it was the best she was going to get. "If you knew, why'd you call?"

"Are you cutting?"

"It's 5pm, mum."

"Are you?"

Éponine sighed. "No, Mom. Cutting is for losers who go to jail after being unable to get a job."

Her mother paused, recognizing her own words, especially since Éponine had taken the liberty to deliver them in a high-pitched voice and her faintly Scottish accent. "That's true," she admitted. "So what are you doing?"

"Going back to school. Before you ask, I'm coming back from work. Before you ask, I got a job at the bookstore I told you about. Before you ask, yes, I tripped twice today and crushed my foot three times. Before you ask, no, I still have all ten fingers you gave me at birth, which is surprising, considering the answer to unasked question number three."

"Still. Stay at a necessary distance away from the hot beverages they serve at the café, okay? It's a miracle you haven't burned yourself yet."

Éponine had already sustained several impressive-looking burns, but she wasn't going to tell her mother that.

"Mom. I don't want to think about it. I'll jinx myself or something. And it'll be hugely depressing and you know I like to project a fearless and happy face to the world."

"Remind me again why you're there, if not for the smell?" She knew Éponine loved the smell of coffee. Or anything with cocoa beans in it.

She knew darn well why Éponine had chosen to continue working the café Marius always went to with his friends, but she wanted her to say it. Ha. Double ha. Fat chance of that. "Use your motherly intuition. Hey. I think I'm here. I've got to go."

"Call me," her mother said. "Later. When you're not so glib."

"Right. Then I'll schedule a call when I'm twenty-five and in my prime, shall I?"

"Shut up." Her mother's voice was fond, and not unlike her own, Enjolras noticed. "We miss you. Be careful. And call me later. Not when you're twenty-five."

Éponine agreed and hung up, while parking to the curb of the road with more finesse than the car warranted.

She looked up at the tall, dark gate, covered with the entwining arms of vines. Then back at Enjolras.

He cleared his throat. "Thanks for driving me."

"Don't mention it. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

She smiled.

He got out of the car and watched her drive away, her car hiccupping every so often.

Across the street, hidden in the shadows, someone else watched him.

**A/N: As always, please keep reviewing! Cheers!**


	11. Chapter 11

Éponine lay on the roof, watching the sunset, while The Smiths sang sweetly through her headphones.

The lullaby was served with a side dish of longing.

Whenever things went too well, she got nervous. Reality always managed to bitch-slap her awake. So often now that something bad _had_ to happen for her to feel like things were going to be okay. She needed a catch. A problem. _Anything_.

It had only been a date, no promises. It'd been days since the date now, and things should've been returning to normal.

_So why did she still feel so damn happy?_

She hated unanswered questions.

They… were friends.

Friends. Yes. That's why she was so happy. She'd made a new friend, and God knows how hard that was for her.

And he was such a good friend to her too.

Making her way back to her dorm, she did a mental compilation of him, memorizing him.

Memorizing his incandescent blue eyes, his messy blonde hair that he never bothered to fix, the way he raised his eyebrows, his warm laugh, and that _smile_. That beautiful smile that lit up the room but so rarely made an appearance. The smile that she would do anything to coax out of him.

They were friends.

Yes.

Friends.

* * *

"What's your first name?" Éponine asked him one day at work, while they were shelving the new arrival books.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your first name. Everyone calls you Enjolras, but you _must_ have a first name."

"Guess." He grunted, dropping a large full box onto the table.

She rolled her eyes. "Angelina."

"Oh, hilarious."

She crossed her arms. "Genevieve."

"You're not giving this up, are you?"

"Molly. Rebecca. Zoe."

"James." He looked at her. "My name is James."

Her mouth made a little _oh_ shape.

"James Enjolras. James Enjolras." She said softly, looking at him and attaching the name.

She noticed he hadn't said anything. She laughed, trying to diffuse the tension. "Well that's a bummer, I've always wanted to name my son James. Your parents got the name first, so now I'll have to pick another name or I'll always think of you when I call his name."

Before he could think of a reply, she continued, "I guess I like the name Anthony too. Antoine, maybe."

Then she heard Mrs. Blemeur call her over to the register, so she rushed to leave. (She hadn't really heard her, but oh well.)

* * *

After McDonald had failed to give her a demerit for sleeping in, she thought she'd escaped further retribution, but apparently she was wrong. The next day, before class, he caught her arm in the hall just before she went into the classroom.

"I'm giving you a pass today, Éponine," he said.

The smell of coffee wafted from inside the room. "I'll miss class."

"You weren't worried about that last time."

"Oh, God, is this still about that _one time_ I was late?"

McDonald gave her a look that would fry eggs and released her arm. "Only indirectly. You're getting a pass today because you're going to go meet with Jean Mabeuf."

The last time she had seen the name "Jean Mabeuf" was on the school website, with the word "Principal" underneath it. She felt like a cat presented with a full bathtub. "Can't I just write out 'I will never again miss class' a thousand times?"

McDonald gave her a look.

"Okay. A million times."

He shook his head. "What a waste of your highly trained fingers, Éponine. Go find Mabeuf. He's expecting you in his office. And do try to keep your vitriol to a manageable low. He's on your side."

She had been looking forward to class as a low-stress introduction to the morning. She thought it was pretty cruel and unfair of McDonald to deliver her to an authority figure before lunch.

She found Jean Mabeuf in Vidocq Hall, a small, octagon-shaped building with windows on every single side. Inside, her sneakers squeaked on the wooden floors. Eight men and women with varying degrees of frowning and baldness looked down at her from portraits on each wall. Probably the founders of this proud institution.

She checked the brown plastic nameplates on each of the seven doors until she found Mabeuf's name. She knocked.

"It's open."

She pushed the door open and blinked in the sunlight; Mabeuf's office faced east, and the morning sun was blinding through the wall of windows behind his desk. When her eyes had adjusted, she found Jean Mabeuf sitting behind a desk adorned with stacks of paper and two vases of daisies, to see that his head was shaved close and that his arm and chest muscles looked like he belonged in a Mission Impossible movie, not behind a principal's desk. Even with a dress shirt and tie on, he didn't exactly look like a principal. Maybe president of Fight Club, but not principal of Saint-Michel.

"You must be Éponine Thénardier. It's nice to meet you in person. Please have a seat."

She took the seat across from him and promptly sank two inches into the plush cushion. "Thanks," she said, cautious.

"How are you doing here at Saint-Michel?"

"I'm very much enjoying the ability to order take-out every night," she replied.

Mabeuf made a face she wasn't sure she liked. It was a _knowing_ face, like either McDonald had warned him she was a smart-ass or that she was otherwise fulfilling some expectation he had of her as a smart-ass. She didn't quite care for it much.

Mabeuf used his middle fingers to push some of his papers back and forth on his desk; it was a strangely delicate-looking gesture. "An unfortunate problem has arisen, Éponine."

She just held his gaze. So they were going to be straight to the point. Good.

He kept pushing the papers around, "Your parents still haven't paid the school tuition."

Despite herself, Éponine sucked in a breath. Damn her father. _Damn_ him.

Before she could reply, he continued, "But, as it happens, we've been considering a scholarship option for the schools…students in need. Would you like to consider it to pay for your tuition?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wonderful. The criteria for the scholarship is you have to score above a 90 on each of your final exams. Mr. McDonald kindly vouched that your English level is strong, despite your grades. Your science and math classes are doing well, and you have an A+ in French." He clasped his hands together on the middle of the desk. "The only subject that you really need to work on is History. If you reach a 90 on the exam, you will have enough money to pay your tuition until senior year next winter."

Éponine nodded numbly.

"Then that settles it. I wish you the best of luck, Éponine."

"Thank you, sir." She croaked, as politely as she could manage.

She dragged her feet listlessly as she left the office.

History was her worst subject.

**A/N: Thank you for your wonderful reviews! Mystery man will be unveiled in maybe…. I don't know how many chapters ^ ^ Keep reading and reviewing, please!**


	12. Chapter 12

"According to statistics, vending machines kill 13 people each year. Can you believe that?" Marius asked Grantaire.

Grantaire stretched out his long arms as he lounged on the sofa. "No, my friend, I did not. But I hardly believe they pulled the machines onto themselves either."

"They showed a video."

"Nawh, I believe there's an avenging vending machine angel that pushes them onto grabby bastards who are bad sports about losing their money." Grantaire made an angry hand gesture and kicking motion, a panicked expression, and a squashing sound in quick succession. "Lesson learned, bucko. Next time, just accept that you've lost your fifty cents."

"Except there won't _be_ a next time." Marius pointed out.

"How right you are. Dying would indeed prohibit oneself from acting upon the lesson they'd learned. Scratch that. Let the record show that vending machine tragedies are not morality tales but a form of natural selection."

Marius laughed so hard he snorted, and then looked over Grantaire's shoulder to see Enjolras close the front door behind him. "There he is, the old dog!"

"How come you two live here more often than I do?" he asked, dumping his full book bag on his wooden study chair with a _thump_.

"Why, we are your forsworn guardian angels, Enjolras. Here to make sure you don't get squished to death by a toppling bookshelf. In fact I'm quite hurt you didn't recognize us by our dashing good looks and benevolent nature. But Lord knows I wouldn't want the words: 'About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him, something something something, that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him' to be the last thing I ever see." He delivered the quote in a mockingly high-pitched voice.

Enjolras raised a questioning eyebrow.

"What?" Grantaire protested, "You asked a question and I gave you an answer."

Enjolras replied, "And a long one, at that. First of all, I have never read such a passage in my life and certainly don't own a book that entails it, thus I could never be harmed by it. And second, I'd rather die seeing the phrase 'To die would be an awfully big adventure.', thank you very much."

"You own _Peter Pan_?"

"You don't?"

Grantaire cracked a grin.

"Oh, piss off, would you? Couple of intellectual show-offs." Marius grunted.

Grantaire looked at him, "You're telling me you've never read _Peter Pan_?"

"Why the bloody hell would I read that?"

"Uncultured swine." he scoffed.

"Bloody smart ass."

Grantaire looked flattered that Marius had noticed. Then he smiled, punching Marius lightly on the arm, "Aw, come off it man, you know I'm only pulling your tail."

"Yeah, I know, I know."

Enjolras yawned and stretched, "Alright, love birds. I'm going to bed."

Grantaire nodded, "I'm coming to work with you tomorrow, by the way."

Enjolras coughed, a little too hard. "Erm…why?"

"Bring Your Kid To Work day," Grantaire rolled his eyes, "I need a new book, genius. Honestly, Enjolras, sometimes I doubt how it is you became the smartest of us all. Oftentimes, I doubt it actually."

Enjolras shot him a venomous look. "If you don't wake up, I'm leaving without you."

"Tell me something I _don't_ know, would you?"

"G'night, you two."

"Good night!" Marius chimed. Grantaire raised two fingers in salute.

Enjolras closed his bedroom door.

He hadn't told them Éponine worked at the bookstore with him yet.

* * *

The bell dinged, but Éponine was too busy to look to see who it was.

"_Oration on the Dignity of Man_ was written by Gio…Gio…"

"Giovanni Pico Della Mirandola." A voice behind her said.

On instinct, she rammed her elbow behind her, sharp and true. She wheeled around to see Grantaire staggering and fighting to stay upright.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry Grantaire!"

"Worry not, my lady. I only need just the one kidney." He gasped.

"I…I…" she fussed over him, but didn't dare touch him for fear of hurting him further.

He struggled to pull himself together. "Studying Italian literature?"

"European history." She mumbled.

"Ah. And how is it coming along?"

She sighed, "Horribly. But the procrastination is coming along just wonderfully."

"Pity. Do you need any hel—"

"No." she answered too quickly.

"Are you s—"

"Very."

"Bu—"

"I'm alright, Grantaire. Really. I don't need to ask any favours of you."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about me. Mirandola's the only thing I remember from Euro class. His name's got a good ring to it. 'Hello, my name is Giovanni Pico Della Mirandola.' The ladies must have loved it." He mused, then snapped back to Éponine. "Oh, I'm sorry. I meant, Enjolras could help you. He excelled in European History."

"I don't think that's necess—"

Enjolras's head peaked around the corner, "What's going on here? I thought I heard someone yell."

"Oh, you two came here together?" Éponine asked.

"He needed a new book."

Éponine turned back to Grantaire, smiling, "What sort of book would you like?"

"Preferably something— wait, do you come here often?"

"I work here." She replied, simply. Enjolras braced himself.

Grantaire blinked. Once. Twice.

Then he whipped around to Enjolras, anger and disbelief ringing with every word, "Enj, I believe you may have left out a tiny, tiny detail in our conversations." He hissed.

"You never asked."

"Oh, you think I would know to ask this sort of question? Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

Enjolras shrugged, "Just didn't."

Éponine giggled despite herself, finding a bewildered Grantaire absolutely hilarious. This reminded Grantaire of her existence. He took a deep calming breath and said, "Well, Éponine was just telling me about how she would love to have someone tutor her European History."

She vowed to poison him slowly later.

Enjolras looked at her in surprise, "European history? Éponine, why didn't you just ask?"

"I don't. Need. Any. Help." She grinded through her teeth.

Grantaire asked, "Éponine, who wrote _Oration on the Dignity of Man_?"

"Gio…Giovanno Della…"

"I rest my case."

She crossed her arms and glared at Enjolras, trying to look frightening. "I don't need any help. I don't like owing debts."

"It wouldn't be a—"

"It would be to me."

Grantaire cut in, "How good is your math, Éponine?"

She regarded him curiously, caught off guard. "I've got an A in the class. Why?"

"Well, it just so happens that Enjolras's math is pathetically poor. If you helped him with math and he helped you with history, then no debts would be owed, correct?"

Éponine furrowed her eyebrows slightly, considering.

"You take calculus?" she asked Enjolras.

"Yes."

"Three X-squared. Derive it."

"Er…Three X over two?"

"Hm. Your math's about as awful as my history is. Okay. Deal." She smiled, happy with their arrangement. "Let's shake on it."

He shook her outstretched palm, his mind still processing what was happening.

"We start tomorrow." She grinned.

**A/N: I love Grantaire's character. Thank you for your reviews, especially you, Liss1357! Thank you for translating into English, which isn't your first language. That's bloody ****_hard_****, and I just want you to know that I really appreciate it!**

**Read and review please!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I've watched One Day, The Proposal, and How to Train Your Dragon, and I ADORE them! They're absolutely wonderful, and I strongly recommend you watch them if you haven't already! And also, my mother is coming soon, so I'll be unavoidably detained for quite a while I suspect…so I wrote a really long one this time! :) Hope it's enough to last a while!**

* * *

Éponine dreamed of forbidden desires and unavoidable horrors. Of angels and demons.

"'Ponine. Wake up."

She pretend she didn't hear Toussaint.

"It's seven forty."

Toussaint's words seemed vastly unimportant.

"Seven forty-_one_," Toussaint said. Her voice was accompanied by a zipper sound. Her backpack, maybe. "Are you awake, 'Ponine?"

"No, I'm still asleep. And there is no way on God's green earth that it is seven forty." Éponine's voice was slightly muffled by her pillow. "What happened to the alarm?"

"It happened fifteen minutes ago. Snooze button, too. You didn't even move."

"I was dead," Éponine said, and sat up. "Dead people don't move. Are you sure the alarm went off?"

She realized now that Toussaint was fully dressed. "It woke _me_ up." She peered at Éponine, eyes round. "Are you sick?"

"Sick in the head, probably." She got out of bed, and wrenched her mind from her gauzy cobweb of dreams, all autumn leaves and sun and rainwater and wanting. She turned her attention back to Toussaint. "But not ill in the conventional sense, I'm afraid. Do you think I can go to class like this?" she gestured to her T-shirt and pajama shorts.

"Honey, _I_ don't even want to see you like that. Are you coming to breakfast? You'll have to hurry."

Éponine jumped up and got ready as fast as she could, rushing to the washroom and coming back with a toothbrush in her mouth. She flung the closet door open she grabbed whatever her hand touched first, throwing it on.

"Let's go." She said.

Breakfast was as it always was. Everyone collecting in the dining hall too early in the morning. Whoever had designed the dining hall had been clever, though; tall windows stretched from floor to ceiling on the east side. The morning sun flooded the room, illuminating the scratched wooden tops of tables and the faded murals on the walls. At any other time of the day the hall was mundane, dingy even. But first thing in the morning, blasted with first light, it was a cathedral.

Conversation was muted and mostly drowned out by the spoons scraping inside cereal bowls, forks moving through rubbery eggs. Éponine stirred her cereal.

"Éponine, someone dropped this off for you." McDonald handed her a small parcel, and continued on his path to the lunch line.

Her eyes widened as she tore open the paper wrapping to reveal a small blue box. Blue. Huh. Lately, that was becoming her favourite colour because of—

She gasped when she saw the contents of the box. A tiny silver bird hung on the end of a simple chain necklace. It was so beautiful in its simplicity and elegance.

"There's a note!" Toussaint pointed.

_For good luck._

_-E_

Éponine smiled.

* * *

Éponine rested her head on her hand, staring idly at the papers scattered on the desk. Week number three of their lessons.

She looked up to see a shirtless Enjolras walk in, brushing his teeth. He hadn't noticed her presence yet, and was lazily looking out the window.

The afternoon sun that came in the window behind him backlit his blonde hair to white-gold, making him look like an angel in a stained-glass window. Only, one with breathtaking blue eyes, and a six pack.

Her breath hitched in her throat, cheeks flushing. She didn't pay attention to where her hand was drifting until it touched the lamp, searing her with sharp, hot pain.

"Ow!" she gasped, holding her hand and blowing on it.

"Éponine?" Enjolras noticed her, "You're early! Are you okay?"

"The bus got here earlier than usual today, sorry. And I'll be fine, I'll just go rinse this under some water." She stood up, glad to have an excuse to leave the room.

Before she left, she turned back at him and grinned, "And Enjolras. Put a shirt on, would you? Get that freak show covered up."

"Wha? Oh. _OH_. Sorry!"

* * *

"So the derivative of sine is cosine…but the derivative of cosine is _negative_ sine?" Enjolras asked.

"Bingo. Now, what's the derivative of tangent?"

"Erm…"

"Come on, I _know_ you know this one." Éponine coaxed him, her fingers fiddling idly with the necklace.

"Secant squared?"

"Yes!" she clapped her hands, "Brilliant, Enjolras! You've improved really quickly."

"Thank you for this, by the way. It was really sweet of you…I love it." Éponine was nervous; she wasn't used to others giving her gifts.

"It was my pleasure…" he mumbled.

Looking up at Enjolras, she laughed when she realized that he was just as uncomfortable with accepting compliments and thank yous. "Why'd you send it in a package? We see each other often enough."

He shrugged, "You seem like the kind of person who loves getting mail."

"I am." She smiled, "Thank you."

Her smile was becoming more and more contagious.

He dropped into a more serious tone, "Éponine."

"Yes?" she blinked innocently at him.

"I…"

"Yes..?" her tone had changed.

He looked up from his nervous hands, straight into her brown eyes. He took a deep breath, and…

"You guys are _still_ here? It's nearly 9 pm!" Grantaire's boisterous voice filled the apartment, causing them both to jump.

"Oh! Already? Oh, I'm so sorry, I-I must have lost track of time." Éponine fussed, quickly gathering her things and blushing scarlet. She scrambled to the door.

"Good night, my lady." Grantaire winked as he swept a deep bow for her.

"And to you too, good sir." She replied with a coy smile and a small curtsy that contrasted starkly with her attire.

She closed the door behind her. Once again leaving him with an inexplicable ache in his chest and her with a thousand questions in her head.

Grantaire turned to smile at Enjolras.

"What'd you do that for?" Enjolras asked, annoyed. "You practically scared her off."

"I _did_ scare her off. That was the point. I like to add a little drama to situations such as yours. Shake things up a bit." He winked. "Now, kiss me, for being your fairy godmother and granting your greatest wish."

Enjolras groaned. "You've only made it harder."

Grantaire's smile fell a fraction, "What are you talking about? I've given you a reason to see the girl of your dreams nearly_ every single day_." He sighed, "You're not telling me you _still_ haven't asked her out yet, are you? _God_, it's been nearly a month now! You know you want to."

Enjolras looked at his hands, "I can't."

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You have a voice don't you? Just open your mouth and—"

"No, I'm not… I'm not _good_ enough her. She deserves better than the likes of me." Enjolras's voice sounded broken and vulnerable.

Grantaire dropped the act and walked up to his friend. "Look, Enj. Despite everything, that's not for you to decide. You need to tell her how you feel, and let her decide whether or not she loves you back."

"I don't—"

"Yes, you do." Grantaire stood up, "You just haven't realized it yet."

* * *

"Éponine, honestly. How long are you going to keep this up?" Toussaint sighed.

"Keep what up?" Éponine kept her eyes plastered to her notes. She knew they'd betray her.

"Just tell him how you _feel_."

"No." Éponine answered simply.

Toussaint groaned, "Ugh, Éponine! Why can't you just let yourself be _happy_? Just—"

"I can't." Éponine was quiet. "I'm not…"

"Not what, 'Ponine?"

"I'm not _good_ enough for him." She sighed, "He deserves much better than me. He truly does."

"Don't you believe in love?"

"I didn't. And I was so sure of it. But now I… don't know what to believe in anymore." Éponine's voice broke.

Toussaint held Éponine's hands and smiled at her kindly.

"Well, why don't you start with yourself?"

* * *

On school days they met in the café.

Éponine tapped her pen against the notebook. She wrote 'James Enjolras' on the paper and stared it.

"You _can_ call me James if you want to, you know."

She jumped, and hurriedly erased the name. "Do all you West End boys have a bad habit of sneaking up on people?" she snapped.

He continued as he sat down in the booth, "And we could probably afford the intimacy of calling me James, anyways. Seeing as you've already slept in my bed and all."

"Oh, would you knock it off with the bed incident already? That was _ages_ ago." she complained. He laughed at that, and she punched him lightly on the arm.

"You can call me 'Ponine, yknow. All my friends do. And Grantaire probably would too, if he weren't always calling everyone 'my lady'."

"No," he replied softly, "I like your full name. It's beautiful."

She beamed at him.

He cleared his throat, and quickly changed the topic. "Now, er, let's get started, shall we? The Scientific Revolution."

* * *

Afterwards, he'd offered to bring her back to her dorm, as it was going to get dark soon. So that's where they were. The last streams of afternoon sun still skimmed over the horizon.

He looked up at the old building the colour of sour milk. "It's erm…homey."

Éponine laughed. "No, you know what it is? It's a message to all visiting parents. _Do not take pictures of this part of the campus. This building has been deemed too ugly for academic use. Don't think we didn't notice_. But I appreciate your attempt to find a silver lining. I personally quite enjoy it's roof and view of the sun."

Enjolras smiled. He was smiling more and more often, now, to Éponine's delight.

She looked at him, savouring his warm smile and bright, kind eyes. Saving them for a rainy day. "Enjolras, I need to t—"

"What the hell is this?" a gruff voice behind her growled. She whipped around to see her ex-boyfriend, Monteparnasse. "You get the hell away from my girlfriend, jackass."

"_Ex_-girlfriend." She stressed, "Monteparnasse, how many times do I have to say that until you get it into that _thick_ _fat_ _head_ of yo—"

Monteparnasse held up a hand to silence her, which made her _furious_ with rage.

"Stay away from her, got it punk? Just go fuck yourself. She's _mine_." He whipped out a knife that gleamed in the sunset light.

"I was _never_ yours." Éponine hissed.

Enjolras's tone was calm and piercing. "Try and stop me."

"You arrogant FUCKHEAD!" Monteparnasse yelled, and charged. Enjolras dodged his furious swipes with fluid motions.

There was a _smash_, and Monteparnasse collapsed lifelessly to the floor.

Enjolras looked up to see Éponine clutching a broken glass bottle, its shards scattered around Monteparnasse's unconscious body on the floor. She looked just as surprised as he did.

"Do you think he's…?"

"No." his answer was firm. "Just knocked out. And bleeding. We should call the police."

"Enjolras." She gasped, "Enjolras, you're… you're…"

Enjolras looked down to see his white t-shirt drenched in blood.


End file.
